R2E #49*: Did Judi Bowker just flirt with me from the stage at the National Theatre in London?

And other examples of my potent imagination. WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY PETER MOORE

THE ONLY TIME I SEEM TO HAVE BEEN HAPPY, IN LONDON, was when I was seated in the first three rows of the National Theatre, craning my neck up as England’s finest actors frisked about several feet from my nose. At that time the theatre had a policy to allocate the “worst” seats in the house—the spit-dappled first three rows—to anybody who would show up e…